Problems in Belgium
by AddictionLover
Summary: John and Sherlock solved a case in Belgium... No problems at all. But there will be... Only where they don't expect it. Secrets are e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e... Rated T, just to be careful. Will probably be some swearing in later chapters. R&R
1. Lost

They were lost, literally lost. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes were driving in a rented SUV through a district in some godforsaken town. Due to the cold weather, there wasn't a single person in sight.

"God, I hate Belgium!"

"Oh John, it's low to blame an entire country instead of your own lack of orientation."

John was holding a rather non-fine detailed map of East Flanders. There had been a case in Ghent (10 people were murdered simultaneously, Sherlock solved the case in less than 15 minutes) and his blogger being himself, he wanted to go sightseeing.

"Then why didn't you let me drive?!" John glared at the map as if it would suddenly come alive and reveal their location.

"I already told you: you never learned to drive these cars."

"Oh, come on! What idiot had the stupid idea to put the bloody wheel on the left-" John grumbled, before being interrupted by Sherlock.

"Shut up, John! I am not having this discussion with you right now. And we both know that I would be the one winning it, so I'm saving you the trouble of even starting one." He had his typical, smug grin on his face after that.

John sighed heavily (which sounded a lot like a growl) but kept his mouth shut. Instead he daydreamed about throttling his best friend. Life was great.

After taking a few more turns left and right, Sherlock pulled over.

"So, finally given up?" John asked, the map wrinkled in a ball by his feet. Sherlock just quirked an eyebrow.

"Nope."

"Then what are we doing here?"

"Waiting." John was getting fed up with Sherlock's single word answers.

"What for?" His question was answered by a loud ring. They were on a little parking, right next to a train station. Well, if you call two platforms and an old, deserted open building a station...

The barriers closed and the few cars driving around waited patiently. After two minutes, when the train finally arrived on the platform across, the barriers opened and the traffic begun to move again.

"I still don't understand, Sherlock!" The consulting detective sighed and rolled his eyes.

They wouldn't have come across all these troubles if John hadn't forgot about the English chargers. Now both of their phones were dead, and they had no idea of where they were.

"Look at the time, John. 16:28. For lots of students, school just finished. We didn't ask that elderly couple from half an hour ago because we _knew_ they wouldn't speak or understand English. All we need is one pupil and we'll be out of here in no time." And indeed, there were at least 30 people getting off the train.

They weren't so lucky. Not a single person went in their direction. John's hope vaporised and he slumped down in the comfy car seat.

"That's it! We are going to be trapped in this middle of nowhere forever!" Sherlock leaned closer to his window, watching something intensely.

"Oh please, don't be a drama queen! Look there, there's a girl walking in our direction. She is fiddling with a key. I'm sure it's the key of her bike. A white, red and black coloured Oxford and-" John stopped him.

"How on earth do you know that?!" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Just by deducing, John, as always. Her eyes are scanning the place a bit suspicious or worried, although it's clear she grew up here by her confident walking. So what can she be looking for? Not her car, because she obviously is not old enough to drive yet and if someone would pick her up, she wouldn't have pulled that key from her pocket. So it's a bike. Now, why would she be looking for her bike? An unlikely possibility is that she forgot where she put it this morning. More likely is that she is attached to this bike and is worried that it might got stolen. Look at the bikes on this side, nothing worth stealing... except for one."

Sherlock turned John's head just a bit to the left and true to his words, there was an good looking Oxford standing lonely against the wall of the previous mentioned building.

"Why am I not surprised?" he muttered to himself. Sherlock had his reply ready but John beat him to it: "It was a rhetorical question, Sherlock!"

By that time, the girl had reached her bike and was lingering. She was frowning at her phone, at her hands and then at her backpack which she supported with her bike.

"You better hurry. One more minute and-" he was cut off with the slam of the car door. "Bastard!" John scolded and quickly followed. As soon as he left the warm car and stepped into the cold air, his breath turned into little clouds.

Sherlock walked towards her, unconsciously as silent as ever. She must have heard the door but hadn't found it necessary to check. She pulled her warm, black gloves from her backpack but let the key slip out of her hand in the process. She just bowed her head and sighed. Sherlock could tell that she had a tiring day at school.

While the girl pulled the gloves on, Sherlock quickly bend down and picked up the key. He noticed the key chain with a teddy bear and under it the name Charlotte. Interesting, he could use it.

She looked at her feet and around them, searching for her key. When she came up with nothing, she turned around with her gaze still glued to the ground. Imagine her surprise when instead of her beloved teddy, she found a pair of dress shoes. Jerking back, Charlotte's wide eyes glided over him quickly and stopped at his face.

"Oh my god!" she shrieked. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the typical, teenage reaction.

"I assume this is yours?" He let her key dangle from his gloved fingers.

"Yes, it is," she replied surprised, "you're English!" It wasn't a question. She looked at the other man who had stayed in the background. John was the first to be polite and came forward.

"Oh sorry. Hi, John Watson!" He extended his hand which she shook with a shy smile. "And you are?"

"Charlotte, her name is Charlotte." Sherlock answered instead. Her eyes widened and her brows furrowed.

"How do you know- oh right, never mind: the keychain."

Sherlock was glad she didn't finish the common, used-without-thinking question of stupidity. It looked like she wasn't an average idiot after all.

She finally took the key from Sherlock with an quiet "Thanks" and looked up at him expectantly. Sherlock looked beside him for a moment, to John, and while he prepared to introduce himself, he heard Charlotte gasp.

He looked back at her and saw something he didn't expect to find in… whatever this place was called.

Sherlock saw her cheeks pale and her eyes became as wide as saucers. Recognition was written all over her face. He thought she had finally figured out that she had the famous consulting detective with an international reputation (and his blogger) standing before her.

He was very wrong.

* * *

><p>AN: OMG, this is my first attempt to write a (Sherlock) fanfiction and <em>actually<em> publish it. Not a one-shot!

I'm not English, but I'll do the best I can... Feel free to let me know what you think and if you find a grammar or spelling mistake, please point it out to me! I have written some stories before (not for Sherlock) and was always so embarrassed when I found one.

Love

AddictionLover


	2. First Impressions

Omg, I can't believe it took me **9** days to write **this**! I've been really busy, the teachers are plotting to kill me, I swear!

IcanoOdles: Thank you for your lovely review, and I've corrected the mistake by the way :). Your feedback made me all giggly and happy in class (and that doesn't happen often, trust me). I'm sorry it took me so long to update.

I hope I won't disappoint with this. Please point out any mistakes.

I'm going to bed now and be a zombie tomorrow... Can zombies write? I wonder...

Love and kisses

AddictionLover

* * *

><p>"It's you!" That was a statement Sherlock was used to hearing a lot, nowadays, but usually with an expression of admiration by his fans. Not once had he heard it combined with fear. It didn't make any sense: why would a girl who lived in a village on the country side, 200 miles away from London, who he had never met before be <em>afraid<em> of him?!

John just looked from one to the other, confusion fairly visible.

"Pardon?"

The only answer he got was a swallow and blinking. Sherlock got more impatient with each second that passed.

"Charlotte!" Sherlock barked and she jumped. The girl looked like a deer caught in headlights, in this case Sherlock's intense gaze.

"Take it easy, Sherlock. Move please." John whispered and shoved Sherlock aside. Charlotte's eyes stayed glued to the detective's face.

"Charlotte? Everything is alright, just look at me please… This man's name is Sherlock Holmes, do you know who he is?"

"No..." she said when she finally looked at John.

"Have you met him before?"

"No…"

"But… Why are you so scared of him?" John was intrigued now, the opposite of his friend at that moment.

Sherlock looked at his watch and sighed theatrically. "Come on John, we're wasting our time. She is probably some lunatic, anyway." He knew it wasn't true, but didn't care. It was not his problem.

John ignored him, but to both their surprises, she didn't. And she had switched from frightened to angry in a couple of seconds, that couldn't be good.

"Me?! I'm the lunatic here?! It's _you_ I saw covered in blood! It's _you_ who held a harpoon, also covered in blood! You scared the crap out of me, of everyone! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

John turned around and frowned at Sherlock's thoughtful face.

"She must have been in the same car as me..." Sherlock was talking to himself now.

"What are you talking about? What is _she_ talking about? What blood?"

"Do you remember the morning Henry Knight came to the flat?"

"Eh, yes, you were once again intolerable because you were bored and wanted cigarettes!" He shot John a glare.

"Before that."

"God, Sherlock, that's more than two years ago! No, wait a second... weren't you just back from that case? You were covered in blood! Do you think-"

"Luckily for me, my brain functions about 10x quicker than an average one, so yes John, of course! If she had just passed me on the street, she wouldn't recognise me now, especially after such a long time. Which means she should have been observing me for at least 2 or 3 full minutes. You know my walking pace and I never stopped, except in the tube…"

John nodded and confirmed: "So the same car it is."

"Eh, hello?! Should I call the police here? Why were you covered in blood?! And what the hell are you doing here?!" She obviously was very angry, confused and curious but beneath all of that, she was terrified. Of him.

"I am not a murderer." he said deadly calm.

"Prove it." Sherlock nodded.

"Fine then. I am not a murderer, I'm a consulting detective. My name is Sherlock Holmes and you've already met my blogger and friend John Watson."

"What is a consulting detective exactly?" She didn't believe him, not yet.

"It basically means _everyone _can come to me with their problems. From royalty to peasants, if their case is interesting enough, I'll take it."

"But-" Sherlock interrupted her, already knowing her question.

"How I solve them? By deducing and logic, something you all miss. I can deduce places, things and people, my logical reasoning does the rest of the job. When you and everyone in that particular car saw me bloodstained, I had just returned from a case. Unfortunately, none of the cabs would take me and it was the easiest option. Questions?" He saw the girl had a hard time keeping up with his tempo and smirked on the inside.

"Why should I believe you?" She was almost convinced, but she didn't want him to know. Too bad.

"You want me to deduce you?" Would be very easy for Sherlock.

"Eh, no, no, no! Sherlock, we're not going there!" John exclaimed. "She needs to help us, Sherlock, and you'll chase her away!" He added in a softer tone, but she still heard.

"Help you with what?" John shot Sherlock a 'shut up' glare and turned around to face Charlotte completely with a polite smile on his trustworthy face.

"Well, Charlotte, the thing is… We need directions. To Ghent actually, we need to get back to our hotel and we don't have a clue of where we are. Could you help us, please?" John could feel her warming up to him.

"Sure. Do you have a map?" And gone was the angry, scared girl. A smile spread on her lips and John could only sigh in relief.

"Yeah, just one second…" John stalked towards the car and both Sherlock's and Charlotte's eyes followed him, almost standing side by side but ignoring each other. You know what they say about an first impression, right?

"God dammit!" They heard John cursing and curiously followed him. "Bloody coffee!" Two heads peeked over John's shoulders to see what all the fuss was about. Charlotte clasped a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. Sherlock just rolled with his eyes.

The whole map was drenched in stinky, sticky black liquid (otherwise known as coffee) and was unreadable, so completely useless. Sherlock took one look at John's left shoe and told him he had knocked over the open thermos that had stood by his feet. John started to argue about whose coffee it was, whose fault and why it was open. Charlotte sighed deeply.

"Don't you have a phone?" she asked. John scraped his throat and managed to look sheepishly.

"Yeah, we do but the batteries are dead. I, eh… I may have forgotten the chargers."

"Which means he _has_ forgotten the chargers."

"Not helpful, Sherlock!" John said with a glare. Charlotte would love to see these guys bickering for ages, but not now.

"Mr. Watson-"

"John, please."

"John, I wish I could help you but my phone is dead, too. It wasn't rightly plugged in last night so I only had 20% battery today." John let his head fall back in defeat. "Although, there's another option. My house isn't far from here and there I could actually print the directions."

"You would trust us to come into your house?" John asked, dumbfounded.

"No, I was going to leave you standing on the porch, freezing to death while I'll make myself a cup of hot chocolate… _Of course_ you can come in!"

Sherlock looked at her like she was mad, and maybe she was. A bit. "But you don't know us, we could be burglars, rapists or psychopaths. Are you really that naive?"

Charlotte began to feel fed up with their complaints and said: "No, I just have people skills. Make a decision because I'm off, I don't want to turn into a gigantic ice cube. You?"

John looked at Sherlock, who shrugged. He didn't like it but it seemed like it was the only option they had left. The street was empty again and the few cars that drove by wouldn't want to stop to give two foreigners _directions_. John nodded in confirmation and smiled gratefully.

"Great! So I'll lead the way on my bike and-"

"On your bike?" John interrupted. "No, no, it's way too cold for that. We'll just put your bike in the trunk. We're driving in a _SUV_ for God's sake! Sherlock, give me a hand!" Despite her half-hearted protests, two minutes later, the bike was laid in the trunk. It took a bit of puzzling but eventually, it fit.

When she fetched her backpack, she hopped into the red car's backseat. John and Sherlock had already got in. She could hear the end of Sherlock's muttered sentence to John: "... this for directions?".

Finally, she spoke to him directly. "Yes, Mr. Holmes, seems like you will have to trust me on this one."

"I don't _trust_ you!" He spit the word 'trust' out like it was venom.

"Maybe that's the problem."


End file.
